Loudmouthed Rockstar
by Veracities
Summary: Thrown into reality TV with co-star Deidara, the notorious death metal artist, Sakura wonders how she'll keep any of her fans in an industry that demands everything from its artists, from number one singles to her most intimate moments. Formerly named Mr. Short, Bright, and Pretty.
1. Intro

**A/N: It's labelled _slight_ AU, because they're still ninjas...just with technology.**

**If you know anything about the actual TV show, We Got Married, I hope you like it...?**

**I'm sorry, this just had to be done.**

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><p>A large, shiny black limousine stopped abruptly and a well-dressed, flamboyant man stepped out of it. His name was Jiraiya and he was feeling rather vehemently angry on this particular day.<p>

He had just signed an important contract and made all necessary arrangements, only to have his co-workers (all 29 of them) email him with varying degrees of anger. Some had resorted to crass name-calling and others had sent him paragraphs (of which he was tempted to reply "TL; DR" but didn't for the sake of his job) explaining why what he had done simply had to be undone.

Their displeasure was centered around a certain show that would be showing around the streets of Konohagakure and every other ninja village in existence—We Got Married.

It was a show he had watched fervently while abroad and he had also understood the reason for its success. It preyed on two distinctive human desires: love for material things and a need for a family.

Following this awe-inspiring discovery, Jiraiya had pitched the idea to the head of the company, and got it approved. From then on, he only had to select two marketable candidates and the show was in the works. Aspects of the show would have to be modified to fit a ninja audience, of course, but the core idea would remain the same.

Unfortunately, Jiraiya's uptight colleagues just weren't as hip as him. They failed to see the appeal of the two chosen candidates (a rockstar and a pop star? really, now) and even felt that this new show would damage the moral integrity of the network. How prudish and short-sighted of them.

With an annoyed little pout, Jiraiya slipped his phone into his pocket and began walking towards a tinted glass building.

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><p>Sakura gritted her teeth. This was the third time all day she'd heard the word 'Congratulations' only to inquire about it and be told nothing.<p>

"Well, thanks." She replied flatly to the brown-haired man sitting across from her. "I suppose you've got nothing else to say?"

The man looked a bit surprised. "As a matter of fact—how'd you know? I've been given a message from your supervisors. They've won an impressive deal with Icha Icha Network; you'll get to star as the female lead in a new show."

Sakura bit her lip. "Really? Why didn't they ask before they began the talks? I'm not sure if I'm ready to start a-acting…"

The man shrugged. "That's all I've been told."

Sakura waved him away. "Thanks." She said with a sigh. It was appalling how ill-informed she and other employees were kept about their work. Although she had hoped to at least be somewhat aware. She _was _their most popular celebrity, at the moment, and they were constantly enrolling her into multiple projects. She wanted some independence, the ability to choose for herself.

With another deep sigh, she sat down in front of the smooth black piano. It was a Steinway grand piano, an antique given to her by the company's CEO as a reward for winning Best Newcomer two years back. He had been a singer too, at some point in his illustrious career and that piano had been his mother's. She couldn't conceive of why he had given it to her, being that he was still young and could sing and play as well as she (probably better, with her luck) but he had wanted no questions as was the case with everything else he did.

She began to play the first song she had written under the company.

Her short, pink hair fell into her eyes as she leaned her head towards the keys. She didn't need to look, but she also didn't want to make a mistake.

It was a stupid song, that she kind of regretted writing. Every time she held a concert she'd been forced to sing it. It reminded her of bad memories, because right after she'd written it, the guy she had written had rejected her entirely.

She sometimes hoped that her singing career would develop to the point where she never had to sing that song.

But playing it out on piano, without the lyrics, was somehow different. The melody reminded her of her childhood, where, although she hadn't been particularly pleasant, there were good memories for her as well. Like the time she first wandered into the flower shop of her best friend's father. Or when she lost her first tooth. Little bits like that, she could enjoy.

There had also been a scandal, a few years back wherein she forgot to continue singing and the music just played in the background. They'd called her a lip-sync-er but careful attention to the video showed that the background music only contained light vocals and not the main part. Stupid paparazzi.

Her music had degraded after that, she felt, into more pop-enthused items, produced by the company. Only recently had she been coming up with new, fresh songs that had yet to be approved by the CEO, who was away on business. There was so much unfinished business in the music industry…how could she just leave it for acting?

But there was no use moping about it, Sakura thought, as she struck a bad note. It wasn't even her decision to make.

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><p>There was no one in the company who wanted to tell him. Try as he might, the CEO could not pay a person enough to make them willing to subject themselves to the incorrigible alternative rock star waiting beyond those doors. Those doors that were already dented and bent because <em>damned<em> if the rockstar didn't live up to his title.

So, opposite to the practices of any other company, the CEO made his way down the white hallway and knocked on those cracked doors while furtively petting his pet dog. He was scared too, judging by the timidity of his knock.

"What do you want, yeah?" The blond rockstar, whom we know as Deidara, half-barked and half-snarled. What is most curious was that his facial expression in no way matched his tone of voice. If anything he looked rather amused as he stared at his pudgy, dumpy boss.

The boss whimpered a bit but then composed himself. After all, he was the one who wrote Deidara's _paycheck_ for goodness' sake.

Deidara looked expectantly at the boss. His long blonde hair was splayed over shoulders and it became evident that he wasn't even wearing a shirt while his fingers toyed experimentally with the guitar lying on his lap.

"Uh," The boss cleared his throat, feeling strangely like a second-class immigrant from Corea, "I have organized a new project for you."

"You?" Deidara gave a sharp laugh. "What if I don't want it?"

"Well, there's really not much of a choice here, you see," The boss prayed for the might to say these next words, "The company is losing stock and you're really not as popular as you once were."

Deidara narrowed his eyes. "What did you say?"

The boss gulped. Perhaps he could have exercised a bit more prudence… "What I mean to say, is t-that, this is an opportunity to revive our prospects!" He squealed the last word, noticing Deidara had stopped strumming his guitar. "Er, you should really do it!" He mentally slapped himself. What happened to maintaining authority? Around the intimidating blonde, it seemed impossible.

Deidara crossed his legs and dropped the guitar onto the ground where it made a loud clang. "Please. Enlighten me on what the hell this so-called 'project' is, yeah. Does it involve music?"

The boss seemed even more flustered, if anything. "S-sort of?"

"Tch. I'll take that as a 'no.' Forget it. I'm not interested, yeah." He said it with defined firmness that the boss was reluctant to challenge. Still, the CEO had seen the data. If Deidara didn't improve his behavior or at least show a cleaner image, the petulant rockstar might make the company bankrupt. And the CEO was at the very least a businessman.

"You don't have a choice." The boss said, still, for the life of him, sounding scared.

Deidara raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I could pummel you to the ground, yeah." He commented off-handedly. "Or set your face on fire. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

The boss wiped his forehead, not bothering to disguise the copious amounts of sweat forming on his face. "Deidara, let's not play games. If you want to do more music gigs, you'll have to cooperate with me on this. I've signed you up for one season of WGM."

"WGM?" Deidara echoed.

The boss panicked a bit. He hadn't even explained or won Deidara over. He was such a fail CEO… "Yes, WGM. It's said to be the hottest show on cable. And you'll be the male lead. Don't you look forward to it?"

Deidara snickered. "You think a cheap show's going to win the audience more than my music? Typical." He leaned backwards into the couch. "You're just one of those bastards who don't appreciate my music, yeah."

The boss was slowly losing patience. Fear was turning into irritation.

Deidara didn't look too happy either, judging from the malicious look on his face.

The boss tried a last appeal. "There will be cute girls."

Deidara growled. "You think that's going to win me over?"

That was it. The boss had him. "It's got to, unless you're as gay as everyone says you are."

Ten minutes later, the boss walked out of Deidara's rickety dorm room with a bloody lip and a signed consent form. It paid to be well-versed in the ways of the rockstar.

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><p>What both Sakura and Deidara's companies had failed to tell them, Jiraiya mused to himself, was that they were going to be on a fake marriage show with each other. Now, he had no idea how well they knew each other, but if his suspicions were correct, two reasonably attractive teenagers of opposite genders spending everyday with other would have to fall in love at some point.<p>

Jiraiya's chuckles to himself were anything but subtle. Heck, even Kakashi, whose nose was glued to an orange book, noticed it.

"Jiraiya." Kakashi greeted faintly. "You seem happy today."

Jiraiya broke into a grin at this statement. "Why, you've only seen half of it! Wait until two weeks from now! I'll be laughing all the way to the bank." Jiraiya slapped the younger man on the back while showing off his belly laugh.

Kakashi backed away slowly, muttering something about 'gayness' and 'Gai'. Shrugging, Jiraiya slipped out his phone and lost himself to the world of electronics.

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><p><strong>Review so I can know whether this whole plan was a fail or not.<strong>


	2. Always the Last to Know

**many apologies for how it took me to update! I've had half of this laying around for years, and recently finished a year of college. I'm getting back into things and the next chapter will be longer, I promise.**

**again, with much inspiration from the Korean show.**

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><p>"It's best if we don't tell them." Tsunade replied, sipping her sake. "They won't react positively, and it might be better for views if their reactions are caught on camera." She nodded her head for emphasis.<p>

Jiraiya agreed with this view. "Very wise, Tsunade-hime." He said emphatically.

"Oh shut up, you old tub of lard."

"Hey!"

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><p>Sakura held her breath as she opened the pink envelope. It was a message from the directors of the show, telling her where to go. She was already being filmed by the camera as she stood there in the park but she suspected the clip wouldn't be shown. She had been on enough variety shows to know that boring parts of shows were usually cut out to make room for the more interesting.<p>

So she was relatively calm, for now.

"Go to the tallest building in this city." She read carefully. "The tallest building?" She looked around, but as expected, from the park she could see nothing. From her own prior knowledge, she suspected it was the newly opened mall over at the east end of the city so she walked to the bus stop.

After five minutes, the bus still hadn't arrived. She began to feel bored and started humming to herself. The cameraman gave her a thumbs up which made her feel uneasy. She didn't like being reminded that her every move was being watched.

Finally the bus arrived. "You're late." Sakura remarked.

The bus driver was an old man so Sakura faltered. She didn't want to appear rude. "I mean—sorry."

The driver bowed and motioned to the back of the bus. Sakura followed where he was pointing and sat down. The bus moved at a snail's pace. It seemed like an eternity when the driver finally announced, "We have reached the last stop."

Sakura thanked the driver and got out quickly. A quick look upwards told her that it might rain soon. Sighing, but careful to maintain a neutral expression, she walked towards the building.

Once inside, she was struck by the splendor of the building. It was decorated plainly but its walls and ceiling were obviously expensive and luxurious looking. She wondered if she would get to stay in this building during the show. Probably not, since the building had been built as a hotel or a tourist attraction of sorts. Sakura herself had been there when she had first debuted, as the concert hall had been nearby.

Suddenly she gave a shout. There, in the mirror in front of her she could see a man in blue clothing was following her! She turned around quickly.

He bowed and handed her a pink envelope. Sakura scowled, but quickly masked her irritation. "I am not here, but actually up on floor 78." She read. "Floor 78? How high does this building go up to?" She said partially for herself, and partially for the sake of the ninja audience that was watching this.

After navigating her way through the building, she finally arrived on floor 78. There, a man with flowing blond hair that reached past his shoulders and dressed completely in white stood, facing the immense glass window. Sakura watched him with apprehension. He seemed not to know that she was there.

"Um, excuse me." Sakura began, feeling annoyance seeping into her veins, "Can you tell me what I should do?"

The man turned to face her, his expression mirroring her displeasure. "How should I know?"

"Well," Sakura replied, not liking his tone, "You were here before me."

The man gave a short laugh. "That doesn't prove anything, yeah."

Sakura gave a small glance towards the cameraman. The cameraman looked perplexed, as if unsure what to do. Sakura turned back to face the blonde. "Well, if you're done being unpleasant. Are you the male lead in this drama?" So sue her, she was breaking the fourth wall. It _had_ to be done, so that she could at least figure out something.

"Drama? Pinky, does this look like a drama to you?" The man replied wryly.

Sakura looked around her curiously, ignoring his dig. "If it is, I never got the script." She admitted.

The man laughed. "Neither did I, yeah."

Sakura felt as though she should at least make some effort to make the show more interesting. Heck, even she wouldn't watch this crap. "Wait, have you gotten a pink envelope?"

The man narrowed his eyes. "Is that some kind of innuendo?"

Sakura frowned. "No…" She really doubted he was a celebrity—celebrities were never so crass, whether on camera or not. The public would hate them if they were since they were supposed to be the pinnacle of perfection. It was probably bad for her image to even be seen with him…what was her company thinking?

"Well…now that I think about it…I did get some stupid yellow envelope, yeah." The man replied, digging into his pockets.

"Oh!" Sakura remarked sharply. "What's your name?" She felt abashed, frankly; she'd forgotten basic rules of etiquette in her haste.

The man gave her a flat stare. Apparently, he wasn't very impressed either. "You're kidding right? You've never heard of me?"

Sakura looked at him closely. Of course he was right. If he was on this show then he should be a celebrity. But although his appearance seemed showy enough, Sakura couldn't pinpoint any names. "No." She said, hoping he wouldn't take it the wrong way.

"Tch. You probably don't listen to that kind of music anyways." The man replied, opening the envelope. "Ah, I never bothered with this crap, so I had no idea what it said, yeah." He examined its contents. "What in the…?"

Sakura's curiosity was piqued. "What does it say?" She asked, momentarily forgetting introductions. She would have to find out at some point anyways.

"It says we have to go eat in a restaurant now. Preferably expensive, since we're filming. I hope they're paying for this, yeah." The man said irritably.

Sakura blinked for a few moments. Eat with this man? Was this the producers' idea of an entertaining show? She was sure the ratings would be incredibly low, which would allow her to move back towards her singing career, anyways. She felt considerably better now, but there was a small twinge of…incompetence? That she couldn't even put on a successful show…

She agreed to have lunch with him. "But you've got to tell me your name." She protested.

The man looked bored. "It's Deidara, yeah." He stated. "What's yours?"

Sakura almost didn't want to reply, noting his complete indifference. Still, for the sake of appearances, she did so, "Sakura. Do you prefer honorifics or no?"

Deidara shrugged. "It doesn't matter. What kind of food do you want? We're leaving now, because I hate the smell of this building." He announced like it was an order, which Sakura detested. She inhaled the scent of the building—it smelled like petroleum, probably because of how industrialized it was. He must have been there since morning, if the smell had gotten to him, she thought distractedly, as they walked towards the elevator.

"I like seafood?" She replied, though given her confused state of mind, the statement ended up as more of a question.

Deidara was all for looking attractive. Why not? It didn't conflict with his music, he attracted more attention that way, and besides, it could be a source of entertainment in and of itself.

What he _didn't_ like however, was how hard those manufactured pop idols tried to achieve that attractiveness. So much so that they'd stuff their own personalities and pretend to be sugary pretty angels of perfection when they were just as corrupt and jaded as Deidara himself.

Which was why, when Sakura, that pretty pinkette with the green eyes and pale complex, informed him that _she_ was a pop star, he blanched. He had suspected the content of the show he had been forced into. To be told that his counterpart was in fact a pop star…it didn't agree with his values. He liked defiance, rebellion, a little anarchy, and a lot of arrogance (in himself, of course). Pop stars just didn't fit that bill.

"Uh huh." He answered non-committally.

"Are you even paying attention?" Sakura said edgily, forgetting the camera for the moment.

"Sure." Deidara gave her a smirk. Still, she was attractive. And would make a suitable diversion for this tedious season of WGM.

"Whatever." Sakura said with a sigh, but Deidara already wasn't listening. They ate for a while in silence until she noticed the sliver of paper under her plate.

She tugged it out and unfurled it. Her forced smile sank.

Deidara stared at her. "What?"

Wordlessly, she passed him the scroll.

He let out a string of expletives, not noticing the cameraman or Sakura wincing.

"So, we're married, yeah." he said casually. "Goddamn, and I was just about to pen a whole new album. Fuck."

He stared at her lecherously, as if just now taking in her well-placed zipper and soft skin. "Although...I wouldn't mind having _you_ for a bride."

"...You knew about this, didn't you?" Sakura said flatly, her voice taking on a bitter tone. "I was the last to know."

"Well, what did you think this was, Pinky? No such thing as a free meal." He snatched up his lobster and bit into its head.

Sakura felt her career satisfaction die in her throat.

"Get a move on, girl. They want us in the studios soon." He slurped out the rest of the lobster and tossed it back onto the plate. It struck Sakura's soup bowl and flicks of seaweed shot up and landed on her cheek. She wiped it off with a napkin.

She looked quietly at him, then, she walked slowly over to his side of the booth and sat down, with a strange look in her eyes.

For a split-second, he wondered amusedly if his sexual charms had finally overwhelmed her, before she grabbed him by the collar and brought her face very close to his.

In his ear, she growled, "Listen up, _Blondie._ I've wanted to be a singer since I was a kid. This is my career you're joking around with. If this show doesn't do well, it means both our careers will be irrelevant."

She tightened her grip. "And if that happens, I swear, I will hunt you down for the rest of your life and destroy you. So, stop acting like a common street harasser and more like an actual h," her throat caught on the word and choked it out, "-husband!"

She let him go and returned to her seat. After a minute of silence passed, she dared to look up and was met with eyes that were burning with hatred.

"But, oh, Pinky, you've just started a war, yeah."

The cameraman yelled cut.

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><p><strong>I'm listening to Kelly Clarkson and Taylor Swift to get into this pop business. I'm more of a dark indie girl, myself.<strong>

**until next time (next week)**


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